


Visceral love

by Kaesteranya



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaesteranya/pseuds/Kaesteranya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how confusion is made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visceral love

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from the 31 Days theme for August 2, 2008.

Hibari Kyouya likes to strike from the top, a subconscious acknowledgement of his namesake (death from above, shadow of brutality bearing down in a flash of gray eyes and metal fangs). Dino realizes that this is part of the thrill of fighting him: being able to tear him down, to pluck him from the sky. He knows things now, having seen Hibari in several hundred states of all things wrong for a child like him: slammed into a wall, or pressed to the floor, or tangled in a web of limbs and leather. He has kept the prefect down, as he crushed those fingers against the steel of the weapon they held; he has held his student close, fingers grazing over the length of that throat and the whip coiled around it, tracing each hitch of his student’s breath as he gasps for air. He commits these things to memory, and uses his knowledge to gain the upper hand every time they crash together, because any foothold is a good foothold when one is dealing with an anomaly like Hibari.

 

“Be a good kid and quit while you’re ahead, Kyouya.”

 

They’ve grown close and become familiar with a particular lack of distance not because Hibari allowed it to happen, but because Dino left him with no choice in the matter; the young prefect is reminded of this uncomfortable truth by the fact that even if he fought tooth and nail every step of the way, Dino _still_ managed to pin him to the rooftop of Namimori Middle School. Hibari tells himself that he’s displeased by the general picture (Dino on top of him, holding one of his own tonfa against his throat), and not the specifics of this situation (Dino’s large hand crushing his wrist, Dino’s knee bumping against his crotch, Dino’s warm breath against his ear, Dino’s amused eyes taking in every humiliating detail).

 

“Let go.”

 

“Not yet. I want to savor this a little longer.”

 

Hibari attempts to punch Dino in the face with his one free hand, but his tutor preempts him, catching him in mid-swing with a little laugh.

 

“Just kidding.”

 

And Dino pulls away, ruffling the boy’s hair in apology. Hibari straightens up, fumbling for his tonfa, avoiding the young man’s eyes. He tells himself that he’s having trouble breathing because Dino had landed a square blow to his chest earlier. It’s not because their faces had been nearly close enough for their noses to touch, or because he was wondering, as he often has these days, if he’ll taste the ash of Dino’s cigarettes in the man’s mouth should they happen to kiss. He keeps himself from going crazy by not thinking too deeply about the strangeness of their relationship, of what’s there, or – more accurately – what’s missing.

 

Hibari realizes five minutes too late that Dino has taken advantage of his distraction, and is currently fussing over him as though he were an injured bird and not a wild-haired boy who is sometimes just one step short of defeating him. He holds still on a point of pride, suffering the indignity of Dino poking at bruises, clucking at scratches, straightening his jacket and fixing collar for him.

 

“I guess I can patch you up later,” Hibari hears Dino say, just as he knots his tie. “You’ve got a Student Council meeting in fifteen minutes.”

 

“Since when did you know my schedule?”

 

“Since I started training you.”

 

Iron grip, disarming smile. Hibari scoffs and turns away. It was funny how just a few days back, he would’ve tried wiping the floor with that smile.

 

“See you later, Kyouya.”

 

Hibari slams the door on the way down, and hits the stairwell with an energy that he’s not supposed to have, given the fact that he’s been sparring with the Bucking Horse since six in the morning. He is late for the meeting because he opts to spend some time in the gray silence of the Disciplinary Committee room, erasing that last fatal image of clouds, sky, gold eyes and blond hair from his mind.


End file.
